


Better Than The Both of Us

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Dilauded, Drug Use, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 04:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8235758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: This was a request for a story about Spencer's drug addiction, inspired by the song Lover Dearest by Marianas Trench. Lyrics highlighted by (*).Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	

How did he end up here? Sitting on the floor of his apartment, blinds drawn and a needle in his arm. This wasn’t him - yet here he was. Tobias Henkel had changed the course of his life. He knew after he’d asked for that moment alone, when he’d gone back to the body and taken the remaining dilauded - he knew he shouldn’t have done it, but the drug had already taken its tendrils and wrapped it around his brain and weaved itself through his veins.

The BAU had given him leave for as long as he needed to work through what he went through - but it didn’t matter, he’d never be the same. As flashes of his ordeal played over and over again in his mind - the beatings, the fear, the guilt and the drugs - he pumped the seething liquid into his veins, passing out on the floor in a puddle of his own sick, hoping to forget.

\----------------------------

Back at work, Spencer had become more withdrawn than ever before. He knew he needed to get clean, but it was too hard. He was too alone; felt too guilty; and thought too much. And as much as he hated to admit it, he liked the feeling just before he would pass out - a complete and total calm the nothing else could ruin. 

*Sometimes I wish you would leave me.  
I'm not sick of you yet, is that as good as it gets,  
I'll just hide it, or i could slip into you.  
It’s so easy to come back into you.*

The dilauded helped him forget - his guilt regarding his mother, the horrors of his job - they all disappeared when the drugs were pumping through his veins. In those moments, he could forget the horrors of his life and his job. Every time he put the drugs aside, attempting to clean up his life, the terror and fear of that night came crashing back and he’d use again, just to have a moment’s peace.

\----------------------------

Months had passed. Again and again, he tried to kick the habit. Tried to talk himself out of using, looking at himself in the mirror. Over and over again, he tried as best he could to convey desperation when he talked to his friends, hoping that they’d notice his hopelessness without having to beg for help.

*I stared for awhile, and waited for words,  
Seen but not heard and struggled to try.  
My tongue's turning black, but I'll take you back.  
You're still the best more or less, I guess.  
I guess.  
Don't you leave me.*

But no one noticed. No one seemed to care. He was alone, watching day by day as his friends went out together, laughing and smiling as if one of their closest friends wasn’t wasting away in front of their eyes. All he had was his addiction, if no one else would be there for him, how could he get rid of the only thing that gave him any respite. It was all he had.

As his friends laughed and smiled together, Spencer returned home and once more put the needle in his arm, feeling the soothing sting of his drugs, assuming that nobody cared.

\----------------------------

He could still do his job - but barely. He was only nearly holding it together. No matter what he did, he couldn’t figure out how to keep his life from spiraling down the drain. Each day, he swirled and spiraled; he felt closer and closer to oblivion. He wanted the drugs gone. He didn’t want to hide from the people he loved. He was lashing out at the ones he loved and he hated himself for it. Sneaking around and finding dealers that dealt his drug of choice was wearing on his psyche. He felt like a criminal. He was a criminal. Every decision he made, whether he thought it was for better or for worse, brought him closer to collapsing. It almost never happened anymore - but occasionally there was still hope - hope that life would return to the way it once was - nagging at the back of his mind.

*It hurts me to say that it hurts me to stay.  
And it might be alright if you go.  
It hurts me to say that I want you to stay, but it might be alright if you go.*

So leave me, he’d say to the bottles in his hand, wishing they’d disappear from his life as if it was all a dream.

\----------------------------

*The bitter in you, and the quitter in me, is the bitter in you and the quitter in me.  
The bitter in you, and the quitter in me, is the better in you and the quitter in me.  
The bitter in you, and the quitter in me, is better than the both of us.*

He’d never be rid of this plight on his life - and he’d never have the courage to end it. Still, no one had noticed and he figured they never would, so if he wanted to quit, he needed to do it for himself and no one else. In the morning, he would stop. He would go to an NA meeting. 

But until then...he wanted, no needed one more hit. In the morning, he’d call Y/N. She was the only one he trusted enough to keep his secret and he refused to detox in a facility - someone could find out and he could lose his job. She would help him...she just...had to. Didn’t she? As he sat on the floor of his apartment, facing his book case, he once again picked up the needle, injected the drug into his veins and watched as the blood from his arms and the tears in his eyes mixed together, swirling and spiraling, like his life down the drain.


End file.
